


A World Where You Don't Exist

by Yuval25



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dreams, I Don't Even Know, Illusions, M/M, Wincest - Freeform, what is real
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-12
Updated: 2017-04-12
Packaged: 2018-10-18 01:52:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10606839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yuval25/pseuds/Yuval25
Summary: Sometimes, Sam thinks something in this world is wrong.Or - Sam lives in a world where Dean is but a distant dream and nothing makes sense.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I've got a few chapter beginnings lined up for this sorta kinda series of snippets, so stay tuned for more and please tell me whacha thinkin' :) :) :)

Sometimes, Sam thinks something in this world is wrong. It's on the edge of is vision when he wakes up, a pair of green eyes opening lazily, so close. It's at the tip of his tongue when he feels overwhelmed, "De-" before it slips out of his grasp, disappearing behind a cloud of thoughts and emotions. It's his fingers, tingling like they had just touched skin, just been touched, like someone is supposed to be there, under his hands. It's in the way he looks at a freckled young woman and thinks _wrong, you're supposed to be a man_. It's how he shuffles to the side of his single bed to make room for someone who isn't there. It's how he eyes the burger section on the menu even though he always orders the chicken sandwich, whatever variation of it the place has to offer. It's how he hates onions, but likes them, too. It's how he feels safest when the smell of leather is thick in the air, a jacket or boots or anything made of the material. It's how his heartbeat picks up every time he sees a slick black car racing down the road.

No one else seems to notice, but Sam notices. He notices so damn much that, when someone finally calls him 'Sammy', he snaps. Shouts, fists flying, and throwing the chair probably wasn't very bright, but call him crazy – and they do – he doesn't actually believe anything around him is real anymore.

In his dreams, he speaks with a man called Dean, who has green eyes and wears a leather jacket, who is covered in freckles from head to toe and drives a classic 1967 Chevy Impala, who calls him "Sammy" and stuffs his face with cheeseburgers and onion rings, who snuggles close to him in bed, but they don't talk about it, who touches him, sweet and slow and intimate, but they don't talk about that, either.

After a while, Dean seems more real than this strange, strange world. More real than doctors shoving needles into his arms and tying him down by the wrists and ankles to hospital beds while he screams himself hoarse. Dean is more real than Mom, and Mom must be dead in the real world Dean exists in, because whenever Sam sees her he feels sadness. Dean is more real than Dad, though not by a lot, and Sam has the feeling that Dad must be dead in that world, too. Dean is more real than death. Must be, because when Sam wakes up, he is no longer bleeding all over the tiles in the small communal bathroom, nor is there a light or the voice of God speaking to him.

There's just Dean, smiling, green eyes twinkling, so close that Sam can't breathe, fingers dancing up Sam's back and a thigh between Sam's own and the smell of leather and the taste of burger on Dean's tongue and so many freckles. There is just Dean, whispering "Sammy," against Sam's lips, warm and safe and finally, finally real.


End file.
